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She

I have always liked girls. In fact, I believe that women are preconditioned for tendencies to be attracted to other women. If you look back on childhood, you will remember holding hands, whispering, giggling and being physically affectionate with other girls while boys played cowboys and Indians or cops and robbers. Women are sugar and spice and everything nice, that’s what girls are made of and that’s what I love about them. My first several sexual experiences were with girls. I think the first was when I was about 8 playing doctor in my bathtub. Even then I was instigating sexual exploration with other girls. To me, it comes natural and to me, it is just physical. I have been able to bond to women in a friendly sisterly way but never had much interest in women in a romantic sense the way I have with men. Never really cared about cuddling or pillow talk or spending as much as possible in their presence on that intimate level. I never could wrap my brain around it. Until now. There is this woman I have met, known for about a year online and recently met in person at my Christmas party. I knew she was special because she has this intensity about her that exudes even through the computer but in real life, I must confess, I was a little nervous around her. As the evening progressed, I wanted to sneak away and steal a kiss but as hostess of a party, you can’t hide from everyone for long, someone is always looking for you and I didn’t want to share her with anyone. I didn’t want her to be a public show. Odd. I usually don’t care about that. I’ll get mine where ever but for some reason I knew she deserved privacy. And I am longing for the day we get that.

I find myself fantasizing about her. Late at night when I am alone in bed, while my boyfriend is downstairs, I find myself thinking about her. I find myself imagining her beside me, smiling a sweet smile and kissing her soft lips. Taking time to gaze into every gold fleck of her eyes and get lost in their abyss. Feeling her breath against my neck as I move slowly down her ivory skin, my hair cascading over her as I slide slowly down, moving my arms under her thighs…and then something odd…after the fantasy serves it purpose of release, I lay continuing the fantasy…of after…of giggles and sharing a big sweater as we stand on the balcony sharing cigarettes in post coital bliss, deep conversations under the covers late into the morning hours, waking up with my face pressed into the nape of her neck.

Very odd indeed.

No one really knows this but I write poetry. I do it for myself, have been for years. No one knows this because I don’t share it. But for some reason, this seems like the perfect way to express my excitement, gratitude and appreciation to someone who has woken something in me, broken the membrane that kept me from feeling and really experiencing what my love for women has to offer. So while you aren't supposed to name people in blogs or so that seems to be the rule, I felt it would be unjust to leave this nameless. It deserves an identity. So Paige, this is for you.

Unsaid

Like poetry does her body move
In perfect rhythm to my gaze;
Burning embers in her fiery eyes
like the sun lighting up my days.

So pure in her impurity, she glides
She doesn’t lie or cheat or steal;
Her knowing look embraces me
And proves that she’s for real.

Her touch as soft as angel’s wings
Her breath, O, as sweet as wine;
I’d like to fling myself into her
And be happy, lost for all time.

Her tongue explores pearly walls
My desire illuminates the sky;
Friends, lovers, a secret trust
Unsaid, we need no reason why.

~RDS

posted by Rachel @ 1:29 PM